Watch Me Fall
by nimbuses
Summary: Harry Potter, a young magical prodigy, known as the Boy Who Lived, whose parents died to save him from the darkest wizard in the world. Harry Potter, the hidden son of said darkest wizard in the world, is ready to take magical Britain by storm with a certain greasy haired fellow. (slow buildup to the action, no pairings, no slash)


It was a normal Wednesday in Privet Drive when things began to go a bit awry for one Harry James Potter. He had been awakened by a screaming Petunia Dursley, faintly resembling a peacock, waving her arms and strutting about as she ordered him to make an obscenely large breakfast for both Dudley and Vernon. He had done so with practiced ease, and was immediately thrust out into the garden, forced to pull weeds in the sweltering summer heat.

It most likely would have bothered any other average 9 year old boy, but Harry himself was quite used to the way he was treated by his family. Sometimes, he even dared to hope that they might not even be his family at all, for what self respectable little boy would want to be related to the Dursleys?

These were the thoughts that usually kept him going when he was being worked like a slave. Today, his aunt and uncle had treated him rather mildly. He had actually gotten a piece of toast and a bit of sink water for breakfast, although Vernon had forced him to drink straight from the spout, which was a bit demeaning. But at least he hadn't tried to "wallop" him, as his rotund uncle called it. Harry didn't quite consider it a walloping though, as Vernon usually would hit him wherever he thought would hurt little Harry the most, with his meaty hands balled up into fists.

For the most part, Harry didn't get walloped anymore. He had learned what to do and say and what he should avoid talking about around the company of his relatives. The only time he was ever hit anymore was when his accidents happened. That coupled with the fact that his relatives hated anything to do with magic, even the word itself, created quite a suspicious trend for Harry, that left him feeling as if there was something being kept from him.

It wasn't until this particular boring Wednesday, though, that all that had been kept from him was uncovered.

Out in the garden, pulling weeds wasn't so bad as long as Harry could get an early start, giving him a chance to get a great deal of the job done before the sun rose high into the sky. But on this day, Dudley had chosen to sleep in until 11am or so, meaning that by the time Harry had completed his morning chores (he was forced to awaken at 6am), and cooked breakfast for his relatives, it was already noon. One look at the sun, eyes squinted and his face shielded from the glare, and Harry knew that this would be a rough day.

About an hour or so into Harry's job of pulling weeds, watering flowers, and just generally keeping "Petunia's" garden looking it's beautiful best, and Harry was beginning to feel weak. He knew that he should probably go inside and ask for a bit of water, but he also knew that he would most likely get cuffed around the head for even asking. So instead, he continued his job until he began to feel more and more faint, and eventually, as he was tugging at yet another weed threatening to overtake the garden, he succumbed to his dehydration and fainted into a large patch of bright pink flowers.

"Boy! What in the devil do you think you're doing out here? Taking a nap? Get up, now!" the faint screams of one Vernon Dursley began to sound closer and closer, until they were so loud that Harry's head began to pound. He opened his eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the bright sunlight that surrounded him and only served to make the pounding in his head worsen.

'I must have passed out from heat exhaustion or something of the sort," concluded Harry worriedly. 'I'll be getting a walloping now, for sure.'

He attempted to scramble to his feet as fast as he could, but found that due to dehydration and sheer exhaustion, he could barely manage to sit up.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon, I must have been dehydrated, I promise I wasn't trying to sleep! Honest!" he pleaded to no avail as he watched his uncle, tired of waiting for him to get up, wrench him upright by yanking on his arm.

"I'll not have you lazing around like some sloth in my house, I'll teach you how to act like the slave that you are." muttered Vernon under his breath as he pulled Harry inside the house, shoving him through the door. Harry looked up at his face with fear, knowing that he was in big trouble. Vernon's face was turning a putrid purple color, the veins along his neck and forehead pulsing dangerously. In his fear, Harry tried to back away, only for the grip on his arm to tighten until he felt like his arm would break.

"Upstairs, now!" ordered his uncle, spittle flying from his mouth as he screamed. Harry dashed up the stairs and into the small second bedroom that had Dursley's old junk lying around everywhere, and one meager cot for him to sleep on in the corner. He cowered in the corner on said cot, praying to every god that he had ever learned about in his short time at primary school, that he wouldn't be killed by his own uncle.

Harry had quickly been removed from primary school as a young child when his magic began to show itself in the classroom. His aunt and uncle, faced with the terrifying prospect of other mothers and fathers gossiping about the Dursley family, pulled Harry out of school under the guise that he would be homeschooled for his "special condition." They were seen as saints for having the love and patience to tutor a boy who wasn't even their own child, and that was the end of that. No one thought of the bruises on little Harry's arms or his pleading eyes as he was led from the classroom for the last time. The day school had been his only reprieve.

Now, as Vernon had caught up with him and reached Harry's small room, he began throwing any discarded toy (that had once been Dudley's) that he could reach, each one aimed at Harry.

Harry begged and pleaded for him to stop as he came closer and closer and the toys instead turned into his uncle's fists. As his body became increasingly mangled and his vision grew dimmer and dimmer, Harry knew that he was going to die unless he could somehow stop him with the magic that he had been gifted with.

Shutting his eyes and thinking desperately of absolutely any way that he could save himself, Harry's body grew tense and still and he screamed one word.

"Enough!"

A bright flash, a loud thud, the slumping body of Vernon Dursley against the wall, and the screams of Petunia and Dudley from somewhere downstairs were heard almost simultaneously, and Harry's body began to grow warmer and warmer.

He looked down and watched in amazement as his injuries faded until his skin was blemish free, and looked completely ordinary except for one difference.

Harry was glowing. An eerie, bright green glow was emanating from his skin, and just as he began to examine it, the remaining members of the Dursley family burst through the door, all of them just barely able to fit into Harry's room.

"You're a monster..." Petunia gasped, her face steadily turning white as a sheet. Dudley hid behind his mother trembling, beady eyes darting back and forth between Harry and his father, who still lay slumped against the wall, barely conscious.

Petunia and Dudley hauled the mammoth man to his feet and out of the room as fast as they could, yet Harry paid them no mind, as he was still trying to discover the reason for the green glow. Was the glow from the magic that he had done to save his life? It must have been.

He flexed his fingers and studied himself in the mirror, wondering if he now would be able to control the magic that was in him easier than before.

Harry couldn't just walk throughout the streets of Surrey and around his own house glowing green, though. He closed his eyes and imagined the glow fading away from his body, and after a moment, the warmth he was enveloped in dimmed ever so slightly. He peeked one eye open the slightest bit, and sighed in relief as the green seemed to fade.

For the rest of the day, young Harry practiced making his glow appear and disappear, and try as he might, he couldn't get his magic to come back to him. He vowed that he would practice until he could make it come and go whenever he pleased.

Over the course of the next month or so, Harry practiced every single second of the day that he could spare. Which was a lot now that the Dursleys were so terrified of him that they did absolutely everything he asked for, which was just to be left alone. The past week or so had garnered the best results in his opinion, as he was finally able to do simple things such as summon objects to himself, and things like that.

The past few days or so, though, Harry had started to notice strange glowing colors here and there throughout the day, much like his glow that he made invisible to everyone so that he wasn't seen as a freak. Although he was starting to think that no one other than him could see his glow anyway, as he had accidentally walked throughout the Dursley household with his full blindingly bright glow on display and his relatives hadn't acted any different than usual.

Usually, Harry noted that he could only see one color at a time, maybe two, and they moved around so that they were somewhat close to him wherever he went. Only outside, though. They never followed Harry inside.

Laying in his new and extremely comfortable bed that he had created for himself one night, Harry speculated that the colors could be other people's glow, maybe other magic people like him that had figured out how to turn invisible. But why were they here, in Surrey? And why did they follow him everywhere? Harry's insatiable curiosity paired with the thought that surely these people could teach him many kinds of magic, saw him coming to the conclusion that as soon as the sun rose the next day, he would set out to reveal these magical people, or at the source of the glow.

Bright and early the following morning, Harry, who was used to waking up early already, hurriedly bathed and dressed in the hand me downs that he was still being forced to wear, at least until further notice. He rushed downstairs and out the door, completely foregoing breakfast in favor of uncovering the mystery of the glow.

Acting under the guise that he would once again be weeding the garden, Harry set to work. In the back of his mind he absolutely detested doing anymore work for the people that were supposedly his family, but he knew that he couldn't look suspicious, or the glow might leave.

Sure enough, around 20 minutes later, a forest green colored glow, mysteriously shaped like a human being, edged closer to him from the outside of the garden. Harry stood and, after a moment of contemplating, figured that there was no other way of going about things. Besides, he had been practicing this trick for a while.

"Reveal yourself to me." he stated in a steady voice, watching as the invisibility magic that had covered the person stalking him began to trickle away. In it's wake was a tall and middle aged man, with long greasy hair hanging around a sallow looking face. The man's expression was one of pure shock, and a hint of hatred, even? Harry prepared himself for a fight, thinking that the man could possibly try and hurt him for compromising his position.

"Who are you? Why do you have a glow like me, and why are you watching me? Can you do magic as well?" Harry shot questions at the man as he edged closer to him, his palms out in preparation for a fight. Usually when he performed magic, it came from his palms.

The man sneered, and withdrew a long, wooden stick, resembling a magic stick that a magician would use for tricks. "You insolent child, quiet! Should your relatives hear you then I would be compromised." he hissed, not offering an answer to any questions as he turned and began to walk away, his black robes or cloak of some type – Harry wasn't sure what to call them – billowed behind him. Either way, Harry assumed he was supposed to follow the man, and did exactly that.

As they walked, the man waved his wand, and Harry watched, fascinated, as he appeared to cast a spell that rendered them invisible once more. It felt like an egg cracking over his head, and then trickling down his body. Stuffing his wand back into his cloaks, the mysterious man clad in black began to speak in his nasally voice once more.

"My name is Severus Snape and I watch over you on certain days for the Order of the Phoenix. Tomorrow, a different member of the Order will keep watch, and so on. It's Dumbledore's orders, surely he's spoken with your relatives about this, dare I even say it, safety measure? As if one measly guard could protect you should a group of deatheaters, or pray tell, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, came knocking on your door." he sneered, implying what he really thought of the job that was forced upon him.

Meanwhile, Harry looked at him, completely bewildered. "The Order of the Swan? Bumbledore? Who are these people – what... what are you talking about?" he exclaimed, almost jogging to keep up with Snape's fast pace.

They arrived at what Harry assumed was their destination, a small and desolate looking park that wasn't too far from his home. It looked as if no one had ventured there in quite a few months.

Leading Harry over to a park bench, Snape took the reins of the conversation once more, looking quite shocked and pained to realize that Harry had no idea what was going on outside of Privet Drive, and did not even know who he was to begin with. The fact that Harry could see his magical aura also lingered in the back of his mind, but he could not force himself to bring that little fact up yet, as he didn't know if could school his facial expression to look anything other than baffled.

"You mean, you're not even aware of the wizarding world at all? You're not aware of your status, your fate, who you are? The sodding Boy Who Lived doesn't even know his own legacy." he drawled, snorting rather unceremoniously. "Trust Dumbledore to keep you blinded. "For the greater good," he always says." Snape murmured almost under his breath, as if he had forgotten Harry was there at all.

Tentatively, Harry interjected. "I'm incredibly sorry sir, but I thought that I might be one of the only people around who could do magic things. If I may bother you by asking, who exactly is the Boy Who... Lived?" stumbling a bit over the foreign title that rolled off of his tongue, Harry took great care in being polite towards this strange magical man in the hopes that he might be able to ask him for guidance.

Snape turned towards him, and began to speak in what Harry had deduced was his customary drawling tone. "Well Mr. Potter, 9 years ago on July 31st, you were born to James and Lily Potter, both of whom had recently graduated Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. They were also fighting a war against a notorious dark wizard at the time, called V-... Voldemort. Never speak his name to anyone aloud though, as it causes quite a stir these days. Most witches and wizards refer to him as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or You-Know-Who. This dark wizard had recently heard a prophecy, one foretelling of the birth of a boy at the end of July, whose parents have defied him 3 times. This boy, or so goes the prophecy, would be the one to destroy the dark lord for good. After much research and speculation, the dark lord decided that this boy would be you, Mr. Potter. Are you keeping up?" he paused as he had dropped a rather large bomb of information over Harry. Nodding dumbly and finding that his voice had temporarily gone missing, Harry watched Snape with wide eyes, waiting for him to continue.

"Another very powerful man, one who advocates even today for the use of light magic and the establishment of peace in the wizarding world, is known to all as Headmaster Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. If there were a light counterpart to You-Know-Who, the infamous dark wizard, then it would certainly be Dumbledore. During this time of war, he created a group that your parents were a part of, a resistance group known as the Order of the Phoenix. It's still gathered today, as Dumbledore insists that we keep watch over you, for your protection. This is because on October 31st, the very next year after your birth, the dark lord finally located you and your parents, who had been hidden with the assistance of Dumbledore. He murdered both your mother and father, and he attempted to murder you. No one knows exactly what happened that night, but you were the first person in history to ever survive the killing curse. It rebounded off of you onto You-Know-Who, and created the scar that you have on your forehead. The dark lord has been missing for many years now, and it is up to you to defeat him when he comes back. This is why the Order of the Phoenix is still in existence today, to assist you."

As Snape finished the tale, Harry sat in a stunned stupor. How could he, a young boy of 9 years old, be expected to kill the darkest wizard in the wizarding world, a world that he had never been apart of? In fact, Harry wondered, why was he never a part of this world in the first place? Why hadn't he been trained his whole life, taught how to defend himself? Surely he had no chance if he had no magical knowledge besides what he'd taught himself?

After voicing these thoughts aloud, Snape eyed him appraisingly. Whatever he said seemed to have impressed the man, or at the very least he had approved of Harry's line of thinking. He must be very cunning, Harry thought, as the look appeared just as fast as it came.

"Well, Mr. Potter, you can thank Headmaster Dumbledore for placing you here. Whatever his reasons are for keeping you in the dark, I do not know them, and I'm sure that no one else does, either. You will find that Dumbledore plays his cards very closely to his chest. Although I do quite suppose you're right, you will need to know much more than the average school child if you should face Voldemort. But the prophecy that I've described to you, is not the entire prophecy. The only person to know that contents of the entire prophecy is Dumbledore, and I doubt that you could get the information from him. The situation seems to be very muddled." Snape replied in response to the onslaught of questions, sneering slightly at every mention of this Dumbledore man who seemed to be so powerful. He must not trust the man, thought Harry.

'Well, if he doesn't trust this man, then it seems as if I shouldn't either.' mused Harry, before his thoughts were interrupted by Snape once more.

"Now, why don't you explain to me your talk of my "glow," as you refer to it? What do you see?" asked Snape, having gathered himself enough to remain looking emotionless, even though the feeling of dread was quickly taking hold of him. If his suspicions about Harry's ability were correct, then that would mean that Harry had the talent of detecting and seeing magical auras. Only one other man he had ever met had the same ability.

Harry shrugged unresponsively, thinking of what he could answer with. On one hand, the way that Snape introduced the topic led Harry to believe that his ability was quite rare, and maybe he should keep it a secret as it could aid him in the long run. On the other hand, Snape also seemed to know what his ability would be, and could possibly explain it to Harry and help him control it even more. Harry wasn't sure if the knowledge was worth giving his own information away, but after a few moments of debate, he decided that he couldn't pass up this opportunity. After all, Snape hadn't deemed it necessary to tell him how, when, or if he could even get to the magic school.

"Well, sometimes if I try I can make my glow go away, but I don't think it matters because I think no one besides me can see it anyway. Mine is a really bright green color, kind of like the color of my eyes. Yours is a forest green, kind of like moss, maybe. I've seen other glows around here, once I learned how to control mine, one yellow and one pink and one really ugly green color, like vomit." he shuddered, wrinkling his nose up. "Come to think of it, the air around the person smelled a little foul as well."

'That would be Mundungus,' thought Snape wryly.

"Well, Mr. Potter, it seems that you have the ability to see magical auras. It's getting quite close to dinner time for you and your relatives, and seeing as I have other places to be myself, it's getting around the time for me to accompany you home. I don't have the time to explain to you what this means, unfortunately." Snape snapped, standing up as his robes billowed around him. It seems that as soon as Harry shared his secret, whatever kindness he had been showing the boy immediately faded away.

"But Mr. Snape, I have to know why I'm different from every other wizard! I want to learn how to be great and powerful! Please come back to teach me, please!" Harry resorted to begging, even though he would never admit that fact to anyone else. He clasped his hands together and stared at the dark haired man before him with wide eyes as he awaited his answer. Snape, rude as he may be, was the only connection he had to the wizarding world, and in his eyes, the only one that could teach him the magic he so desperately wanted to know.

Meanwhile, Snape's thoughts were overwhelmingly negative. The annoyingly insolent boy before him had taken to giving him what some may call "puppy eyes," as if that could have some affect on the man before him. And no, that was definitely NOT the reason that he avoided eye contact with Mr. Potter. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Snape let out a deep sigh.

"Do not disappoint me. I will be back tomorrow." he intoned, sneering at the boy before he disappeared in a flash.

Harry pumped his fist in the air and cheered, whistling as he walked home to the Dursley family once more.


End file.
